


Running Shoes and Underoos

by beanarie



Series: It Starts With an Earthquake [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanarie/pseuds/beanarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time to pack, and Arthur's terrified of leaving something <i>very</i> important behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Shoes and Underoos

At 2:10 pm, Arthur received the text. 'Trainers,' it said. It was a simple code that took less than ten seconds to send and even less time to read and interpret. Trainers. Running shoes. Time to go.

By 2:30, with most of the essentials packed, he started separating the rest into what could be left behind and what needed to be shipped to his storage unit in Vancouver.

While removing all the portable food from the fridge at 3:20, he shifted his focus between the door and the phone almost compulsively.

Still alone in a silent apartment at 3:40, he was fully prepared to crawl out of his own skin.

The buzzing in the back of his head came to a glorious crescendo at 4:05, and Arthur finally let out a groan and thrust open the front door.

His brain being about eight steps ahead of his feet, his eyes immediately shot to the left, toward the stairs, rather than directly in front, so he almost slammed right into Eames.

"I see you got my message," Eames said, huffing slightly as he walked into the apartment. "Already have everything well in hand, don't you?" Fondness seeped through the tight edges in his voice, and Arthur could finally breathe again.

"Do we have time for you to tell me what happened?"

Eames pulled a face and dropped his bag on the couch. "Interpol."

"Interpol? What the hell-"

"Not sure, actually. I saw this agent, sitting outside in the square."

"He saw you?"

"Don't think so. But best not leave this to chance." He shucked out of his shoes. "A few years ago I may have set in motion a chain of events that ended in him being stranded in the Rhine on a boat with no oars. His memory of me is sure to be close to indelible."

Arthur clapped a hand over his mouth against a laugh.

"I don't think he was expressly here for me. He looked too... I don't know. Honestly, I think he's on holiday. But I couldn't be certain. I didn't text again in case they were monitoring mobile activity."

Arthur eyed the straps on Eames's shoulders. "It's fine. Have you got-"

Eames's face contorted. "Of _course_ I do. What do you think of me?"

Before Eames could froth up a good moral/professional outrage, Arthur grabbed him and bodily turned him around, so he could unstrap the baby from her harness.

"Arfor!" she cried. Because that was who they were, Arthur and Poppy. He'd given up on changing that a long time ago. With toddlers it was all about picking the battles worthy of fighting.

He kissed her messy curls and set her down on her little feet. "Sorry, baby," he said. "I should have gotten you out first before anything else."

She nodded at him, baldly accepting that he was sorry, if not accepting the actual apology. "That's okay don't do it again," she said, in her two and a half year old, comma-less vernacular.

Eames chuckled. "You know that's your fault," he said from the other side of the room where he was changing into his travel clothes. "Can't apologize to the woman without her turning it into a scolding."

Arthur deftly removed her jacket and shirt, tickling under her arms and reveling in the giggles. "I prefer to think of them as teaching moments. You got the tickets? Where are we headed?"

Eames spoke a few words of thanks into the receiver and dropped the land-line. "Culebra."

Arthur kissed her nose and swapped her My Little Pony underoos for a clean diaper. They didn't know how the toilet situation would be for a little while. Diapers were actually more convenient at times like these.

"Well," he said, lifting her into his arms. "This gives us an opportunity to work on your Spanish."

She pressed her face against his. "You silly Arfor."

Eames helpfully piped up with the Spanish translation, which she repeated end on end for most of the ride to the airport.


End file.
